


The Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now

by RtronActivate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, POV Scott McCall, Pack Family, Past Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Relationship(s), Scott is an outsider, Slow Build?, but they broke up for REASONS, things have happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4098046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RtronActivate/pseuds/RtronActivate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek always slept between Stiles and a doorway, and Stiles had many Feelings about that. Derek always placed himself somewhere in front of Stiles when there was a potential threat, even if it was just surly teenagers. Derek rarely said anything about how much Stiles means to him but whenever his hand tightened on Stiles’s hip during a nightmare it felt like saying "I need you". No matter what they were or what they are now, Derek will always love Stiles so fiercely that losing him would do more damage that anything that has happened in his tragic life so far. As for Stiles; well Stiles had been smitten ever since seventeen.</p><p>Or, Scott McCall comes back after six years of running away to find that nothing stays the same in Beacon Hills for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night;Argues with Certain Houses

**Author's Note:**

> the new moon  
> fills abruptly with sudden silver  
> \- 'Paris;this April sunset completely utters' by EE Cummings

Scott leans his head against the plane window. The stale air made his lungs ache and the building headache did not help him much to fix the problem. Thankfully this was the first plane ride in four where everyone left him the fuck alone. He was grateful for that at least.

The sun was lost to cloud cover as the plane descended. In the microcosm of the aircraft very few stirred. People slumped against their seats in the most unflattering positions, too exhausted to care about appearances. If it didn’t make Scott so uneasy to be somewhere other than on the ground he would have succumbed to a nap hours ago. As it is he yawned and stretched, trying to fight past his recent lack of sleep.

The plane breaks the low-lying mist, and familiar country spread out in front of him like a well-worn map. For a brief moment homesickness swells inside of him, and he tears himself away from the window to deter his thoughts. He bends forward to gather his things.

People begin to stir in the gray dawn as the plane descends. The tires touch asphalt and for the first time in three weeks Scott McCall breathes normally. There is still the shuffle from the plane to the airport entrance, but somehow he feels like his life of motion has come to a sudden stop. He was not naïve; he understood that just being home did release all of the tension in his muscles. Some of that tension had been there ever since he put 2,700 miles between him and his hometown. Now it lessened with each step closer. Closer to home and closer to pack, he added reluctantly.

There was no colorful banner to welcome him back, it was only Isaac and his sheepish smile, giving him a tight hug when Scott got close enough.

“Was the flight alright?” Isaac said in lieu of an actual greeting. Scott grimaced, earning a small chuckle from his companion. Isaac looked happier, his hair was shorter and there was ease to his willowy figure that had been absent years prior. Scott shifted uncomfortably and wondered how different he looked to the returning crowd. There was a small pause and Isaac looked around the deserted airport, gesturing. “You got any other luggage dude?”

When Scott went to speak he found his voice hoarse from disuse. “No. I learned to pack light.” Scott smiled weakly, and Isaac returned it for a brief moment. He still had that way about him that made Scott feel like he was always sharing secrets with him.

“Come on, the car is this way.” Isaac gestured towards the lightening outside.

The air was cool as they stepped outside, their footsteps echoing off the parking garage. Scott could hear maintenance working sluggishly, and airplanes making their way across the tarmac. He could almost feel his senses expanding, waking up and stretching as if they had just been sleeping. His sight felt sharper, he could smell the hot coffee wafting through the open door of an attendant fifty yards away.

“Good being back?” Isaac asked, leveling a meaningful look over the center console as they settle into his hybrid _(“Stiles thinks it hilarious I drive a Prius. Derek complimented the practicality.”)_. Scott closed his eyes, heard the first birds of morning begin to chips. He nodded. Isaac starts the car.

~*~*~*~*~

Stiles’s house was dark in the early dawn. Isaac let himself in easily; they both knew that Stiles was awake and waiting. The kitchen light spilled out from the living room, a dull yellow washing the hardwood floor. It had been six years since he has seen Stiles Stilinski in honest to god person. As Scott turned into the small kitchen he caught his best friend’s profile. His crooked nose, sunken eyes, and contemplative expression all stood out to Scott as New Things. There was a stillness to him that seemed very practiced and professional, although Scott had a feeling it was due to the quiet hour and not a total change in his friend’s core being. Or so Scott hoped.

Despite all this Stiles’s smile was wide and welcoming as he turned toward the guests. It was still an incredibly goofy expression, and Scott could not help but return the gesture.

“The triumphant return!” Stiles said; although the day had been so quiet to the point where normal speech was like shouting. “My god we have so much to talk about.” He released his coffee cup and gave Lahey a brief hug. Scott was expecting the force of Stiles’s fierce grasp when it was their turn. Stiles was a guarded person (and Scott suspects this New Stiles is even more so) but it was difficult for him to hold back in a tactile sense. His fierce grip was argumentative and desperate all at once and Scott returned it with as much fervor as he could muster.

“You’ve been up all night waiting for us?” Scott finally said, noticing a suspiciously empty coffee pot on the kitchen counter.

Stiles barely looks phased, “Just woke up an hour earlier than my regular routine.” It was a blatant lie and Stiles knew it, but the blatancy was telling enough. Stiles had no intention of explaining why.

Stiles clumsily gestured toward an old wooden chair at the dining table, and though he could feel real exhaustion beginning to set in, Scott knew this was not a time for sleep. Isaac was already stretched languidly on another mismatched chair, eyes closed and hands behind his head.

Stiles sat and looked at Scott with playful intensity, his mouth a lopsided smile. “So dude, like tell me everything.” It was such a serious tone that Scott let out a surprised bout of laughter. Stiles’s eyes flashed with curiosity and a playfulness that Scott genuinely missed

“That’s asking for a lot. It is five thirty in the morning.” Isaac grunted in agreement.

“I am not showing you your room until you tell me the most interesting thing you’ve done in the past two years with no context whatsoever.”

Something fell flat in Stiles’s tone, making the ensuing silence somewhat awkward. Two whole years was a long time for best friends to not speak and Scott wondered, not for the first time, who Stiles had grown close to as they fell apart. Still though, this was something, they were still something, and Scott owed them a lot of talking.

“I helped a mother elephant give birth while three people carried AKs not ten feet away.”

Whatever they were expecting, it wasn’t this. Isaac barked out a laugh, not bothering to open his eyes. Stiles let out a surprised laugh, letting last until he was out of breath. “That was not what I was thinking.”

“What did you think I was doing?” Scott laughed along, enjoying the company.

“Getting really good at Yahtzee? I don’t know.”

The laughing died out and Scott cleared his throat in the sudden silence. “Nah man, I joined the Peace Corps.” Stiles doesn’t say _I wish you told me_ but Scott felt it all the same. Dawn settled in further and finally it is Isaac who broke the tension.

“I don’t know about you to but I need to fucking sleep.” He yawned, stretching. This broke Stiles out of his silent mood and he smiled widely, standing.

“Well I am not one to break promises, let me show you where you’ll stay, roomie.” He waggled his eyebrows, nudging Scott playfully. Isaac shuffles out of the kitchen, halfheartedly waving goodbye.

Scott and Stiles looked at each other. Stiles smells a lot like everyone he used to know. Like their scents have made their way to the very indents of his fingerprints. Scott wonders idly if they used to smell indistinguishable like that; back in the days of high school and homework. They share an awkward smile and Scott gestures for Stiles to lead the way. This wasn’t easy, but it was something.

“Isaac lives here?” Scott asks as they make their way up the creaking steps.

“On the weekends, or like whenever he misses me more than his dorm.” Scott guesses there is a space for every pack member in this house, and drawers specifically partitioned out around the house for their belongings. They stop at the top of the stairs, in a doorway with a small twin bed with a dresser. Stiles gestures mildly. “Bed, bathroom is down the hallway to the right.”

“Great. Thanks. You’re not going to bed?”

Stiles shakes his head and rubs a hand down his face. “Nah, gots stuff to’do.” He mutters. They stand awkwardly for another beat until Stiles finally decides to launch himself into another bone crushing hug. “Good to have you back. Sleep tight.”

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Scott finds himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Light leaks through the dark curtains, a new day trying to break into the quiet. He takes a breath. Scott did not need to share space with anyone in this house; this was his alone. In a house where nothing is sacred and everything is shared, he doesn’t know if that is welcoming or absolutely alienating.


	2. I Have Work to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I go down to the shore in the morning  
> and depending on the hour the waves  
> are rolling in or moving out,  
> and I say, oh, I am miserable,  
> what shall—  
> what should I do? And the sea says  
> in its lovely voice:  
> Excuse me, I have work to do.”  
> \- Mary Oliver

“All I’m saying is that you should look around.” His mom’s voice sounded gentle, Scott sighed and switched the phone to his other ear. “I’ll bet Lydia would be happy to show you their regular haunts.”

“Lydia does not have time to be showing me my hometown.” Scott sighed, looking out the window of his new home. The midafternoon light sloped gracefully along the hills, touching the lake and trees nearby. Five hours of sleep and Scott had never felt so well rested. He woke to a text from Stiles, reminding him there will be a (undoubtedly awkward) welcome dinner at eight. So far Scott had showered, flipped through a newspaper for a good hour, and fed Stiles’s unimpressed cat. Real boredom had begun to creep in as Scott began to wonderwhy he was even back in the first place.

Melissa sighs the sigh of the long suffering, and turns away from the phone to speak to somebody down the hall, Scott picks at the comforter strangely feeling younger than he has in years. When the conversation picks up, it isn’t his mom.

“There’s a new diner around the corner. Maple Ave. Meet me there at 3:30.” Lydia sounds impatient but casual, like this was part of their tired routine even though they haven’t seen or even spoken to each other in years.

“I- I- yeah.” Scott finally managed before he heard her light _hmph!_ And handed the phone back to his mother. All he could muster was a faint, “I didn’t know Lydia works at the hospital.”

Melissa lets out a small laugh. “You’ll have to ask her about it over lunch. I’d suggest you get there early.” There was more chatter coming from the hospital, another world compared to the quiet sanctuary Scott now called a temporary home. “Listen sweetie, I’ve got to go. I’ll be seeing you tonight. Love you.” She said hurriedly. He returned the affection, ending the call with a sigh. He was reminded that this house would soon be filled with people, expecting to him to explain his disappearance.

The orange tabby nudged the door open and padded into the room. Scott watched as she jumped on the bed and pressed her face into the palm of his hand. Of course Stiles’s cat wouldn’t be afraid of werewolves. “What’s your name, cat?” The cat just blinks at him in response and swishes off the bed.

Scott hears the car pull up the driveway, and sure footsteps making their way up the gravel path. There is a hesitation at the door and Scott is surprised to hear a knock instead of it opening. When he makes his way to the door he hears Derek Hale’s even breath on the other side.

The door brings in the slanting light of the afternoon, lighting Derek in a way that reminds Scott of Renaissance paintings. _Chiaroscuro_ he thinks absently.

Derek shifts on his feet, looking Scott in the eyes. “Hello.” It wasn’t unwelcoming but it was not exactly friendly either. Scott just nods, not sure what to make of it.

It takes a long moment before Scott realizes Derek is waiting to be invited in, which was odd because Scott can smell Derek in every facet of this house, as well as the fact this was an indirect subordination to him from his Alpha. He makes an aborted gesture, but it seems to be enough for Derek, whose shoulders relax as he eases himself in into the living room. Scott closes the door to distract himself from this odd encounter, turning to Derek.

“Stiles and Isaac aren’t here right now it’s just me-” Scott begins but Derek cuts him off.

“I know.”

“Oh.” The words fell flat and they stood in a stilted silence. Scott could see Derek struggle internally with himself, jaw twitching. He looked, for lack of a better word, fuller. Before Scott had left Derek seemed gaunt even under all of his muscle and brute force. He always looked more skeletal than anything. Now, his beard was filled in and less patchy, and he had taken to wearing khakis with a dark brown leather jacket. Derek still had the intimidation factor, but the vibe had lessened from a crazed-escaped-convict to a loving-but-stern father.

“Stiles wanted me to personally welcome you. To Beacon Hills.” He began awkwardly, opening his palms as if pleading Scott to understand Stiles and his tendencies. Scott understood for the most part- that never changed with Stiles. “Said that it would make you feel better for tonight. For the dinner.” It was obvious by the tick in his jaw that he was under duress from Stiles to do this, and it made Scott want to laugh. Instead he smiled, understood what it meant to have Derek here, hands wide, waiting for Scott to accept him.

“I- thank you.” Oddly it did feel better, like some part of Scott opened and let out worry he did not know was cased there. Derek doesn’t smile but he doesn’t frown either, he nods to Scott (or to himself) before leaving exactly the way he came.

~*~*~*~*~

Even though Scott is five minutes early to the diner he still finds Lydia tucked away in the booth furthest from the door, head ducked into paperwork and files. She smiles briefly at him as he sits, her eyes looking him up and down, no doubt cataloguing everything.

“Hi.” He says first. Somehow it felt as if it was his idea they go out to lunch, even if it was Lydia and his mother that strong-armed him into it. Maybe Lydia had that affect on people.

“You ready to do some catching up?” she had a smile on her lips and Scott wasn’t sure if she meant here at this diner or over the next few weeks. Probably both. Scott grimaced.

“Not particularly.”

She pursed her lips, thinking for a brief moment. “Well it is your fault.”

“I have a feeling you are going to keep reminding me.”

“Only if you keep complaining about it.” She closed the file in front of her. It felt like an argument, one that he possibly cannot win. Lydia’s mug of coffee was still steaming in front of her as Scott considered her attack. She had rings around her eyes from lack of sleep, and thin scratch marks hidden just under her coat. Imperceptibly she moved away, obscuring the long marks. She looked mostly the same, except-

“Why’d you cut your hair?” Scott blurted out. Her eyes widened in surprise as she fingered the bob at the nape of her neck.

“Long hair is very annoying when you live the life I live. You should try it once.”

Scott smiled, “I have. Two years without a hair cut once.”

She gaped for the slightest moment and then rolled her eyes. “It must have looked terrible. No wonder why you didn’t talk to us. We’d make fun of you mercilessly.”

He smiled at the waitress as she put a cup of hot tea in front of him. “Possibly.”

They fell into a more companionable silence as Scott ordered himself a sandwich and Lydia looked over the rest of her paperwork. The diner was pretty empty, and he suspected Lydia preferred that. There was one waitress and one cook working, who looked friendly but not to much so. Crazy enough he could almost smell the pack here, and he thought back to what his mom said. That this must be their regular haunt. He looked around the cozy diner.

Sports memorabilia lined the walls and looking closer he could see the pack in one picture, a few years back, all wearing softball jerseys. BHPD was stamped across their uniforms and each had a wide smile. Lydia herself stood by the sidelines, her hair shorn even shorter, a wide smile as Stiles’s hand settled on her shoulder. Even though his absence was his choice he still felt conspicuously nonexistent from such a picture. The apathetic waitress returned with two steaming piles of food, breaking him out of whatever mood he had fallen into. Lydia was watching him, but did not comment.

“You went that long without a haircut because of the Peace Corps, right?” she said, munching thoughtfully on a fry.

“Yeah?” he said in a tone that clearly wondered how she knew such things.

“I work with your mom, remember?” as if that explained why she knows everything.

“Why? Why do you work with my mom?” Scott said playfully, a piece of pastrami flying off the table as he gestured empathically. “I thought you were going to be a physicist or a mathematician.”

He could feel the mood shift before she said anything. She ducked her head suddenly, “I decided against that after… everything. Figured I’d be more useful if I knew how to save lives.” Her voice sounded small all of the sudden, hitting dull on Scott’s ears. All of the fight went out of him and he felt cold, unwanted memories flooding back into ill-fit places. He looks down at his lunch for a long time, working himself into a panic as he considers how to leave.

“You can go.” Lydia is back to her work, as if nothing had happened. Scott looks to her and looks at the door, as if there is a right decision to be made. She meets his eyes for a brief moment. “I’ll tell her to wrap it up.” She goes back to the files.

In all this, Scott is abruptly reminded of Derek. As he flees the suffocating security of the diner he only thinks of Derek in his stupid khakis and unthreatening leather jacket. The Derek Hale Scott knew all those years ago would be doing the same thing, out of breath and making his way through the streets of Beacon Hills, away from the pain of memories. Scott wants to shake him and ask what his secret is. After all that tragedy Derek Hale seems whole and Scott is still broken. Everyone here appears fixed except for him and he feels a little how Derek looked, back when all this first started- trapped and aching to be anywhere but here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow-pacing, but I am finding I like that. I appreciate all the comments and kudos.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot written, but nothing is formed into chapters yet, I really want to continue with this though.


End file.
